


You Can Write Rhymes, But You Can't Write Mine

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Drama, First Time, Forbidden Love, Gen, London, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Running Away, Slam Poetry, because why not, its all very lame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6474394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philip Hamilton and his crew are rising stars in Manhattan's Slam Poetry circles. They're a great team, behind each other on everything, and together they plan to take over the world with eloquent prose. But at an important showcase, Philip catches the eye of the daughter of his father's political enemy, and though he knows how much trouble he could get himself & the people he cares about into, he just can't say no. He guesses it's hereditary.<br/>(Or, modern AU where Philip and Theo fall in love at a most inconvenient time.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Story Of Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! So I've had this idea for a really, really long time, and I've been working on it for so long because I want it to be perfect. So here's a list for reference (I know its not historically accurate let me live):  
> Philip: 19  
> Theo: 18  
> Frances: 17  
> Angie: 16  
> Georges: 18  
> Will: 19
> 
> Any way. Enjoy!

"Today's the day!" Angie cries and bursts into her big brother's room, throwing open the curtains.

Philip sits up, squinting at his sister's silhouette against the sunlight. "Huh?"

Angie walks towards his bed, her features sharpening as she stepped away from the harsh light. "The SoHo showcase?" She reminds him, lifting his blankets off of him in one swift movement. Philip grapples to collect it, considering he's only wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of boxers, but to no avail- Angie has collected his blue duvet in her arms, and he is helpless to retrieve it. "Georges just called. He and will are going to pick up Frances, then they're on their way here. Up. Shower. Will is picking out your outfit."

Philip blanches for a moment before lifting himself out of b ed and heading to the bathroom. Angie calls after him. "Oh, by the way, don't forget, it's mom and pop's anniversary."

Philip nods assent and heads to the shower. He turns the water on so hot it scalds and jumps in, reciting the poem he's going to read tonight over and over in his head. He's had it memorized for months now, but he need to be certain he has it down. He starts to shake as he thinks of what's coming- He's been a rising star in the Slam Poetry scene for a few years, but tonight important people will be there, press will be there, media outlets, the works. A few independent writers and poetry blogs have done pieces on him in the past, but nothing to this degree. This night could make or break his career as a poet.

When he gets out of the shower and staunches the water flow, he hears voices coming from his room. A loud, boisterous laugh- Will- A few 'tsks'- Frances- and banter going back and forth and drifting between French and English so quickly he can't make out who's saying what-Angie and Georges. He enjoys the sound of his friends as he dries off, pulls his pyjamas back on, and dries his hair before entering his room. His friends are all there, all dressed nicely as the showcase rules stated- Will and Georges in casual dress suits, Angie in her mother's blue dress, and Frances in a coral pantsuit.

"There he is!" Georges exclaims. "The man who's going to lead us into Slam Poetry history tonight!" His accent is weak, about half the intensity of his father's, but the lilt of his tone comforts Philip.

"Here here!" Frances cheers, and Philip hugs her. She's the spitting image of her father, all curls and freckles and hazel eyes. Philip has always had the secret inkling that his father had wanted them together, considering she was the daughter of his best friend, but Philip had always seen her as more of a sister, and he knew she felt the same- this fact had been confirmed after junior prom. They had gone together, and shared a kiss on the hood of her car. When they pulled away, they exploded into fits of laughter. That night they had signed an unspoken verbal contract to never be anything more than brother and sister.

"Your outfit is on the bed." Will informs him. "Not to brag, but it's some of my best work."

"Ingenious." Georges kisses his fingers in a 'perfect' motion. 

"You change, we'll be downstairs." Frances decides. "Come down when you're done, your mom is making breakfast and I'll do your hair."

The four left the room for Philip to change. He looked over the outfit Will had picked out for him- dark navy cigarette slacks, a light purple dress shirt, and a sport coat to match the pants. At the foot of his bed were a pair of black dress shoes. He smiled to himself. Georges was right- it was immaculate.

* * *

 

Once he's changed, Philip bounds down the stairs to see his friends sitting at the kitchen island, and his siblings and father at the table. "Morning everyone!" He cries, and makes his rounds of the table, kissing the heads of each of his siblings. He adores being the oldest, and never lets anyone forget it.

"Good morning, son." Alexander gives his arm a gentle squeeze over his laptop. Typical of him to begin work first think in the morning. "You feeling ready for tonight?"

"As I'll ever be." Philip exhales and glues a grin to his face. He turns towards the island and pulls a chair up beside Will. Angie has her laptop open as well, and she's typing away almost as rapidly as her father. 

"What're you doing?" Philip asks.

"Making some last minute adjustments to my and Frances's piece." Angie responds. Frances taps her fingernail against the screen and whispers something, and Angie nods and hits backspace a few times.

"Good morning!" Eliza emerges from the hallway connected to the kitchen.

"Hey, Aunt Eliza!" all of Philips friends say in unison.

"Hey, happy anniversary, you two." Philip points out. His father closes his laptop and swaggers into the kitchen, an eyebrow raised, and snakes his arm around Eliza's waist.

"Twenty years. Can you imagine?" He asks.

"I remember the very first time I ever saw you." Eliza muses, and everyone quiets- they've all heard the story a hundred times, but they never pass up an opportunity to hear it again. "A military function my father was funding. Angelica was off flirting with all the guys, Peggy was trailing her around, and I was just standing by the refreshment table. I was so shy! I had to have Angelica introduce us. I remember the moment I saw you, I felt weak. Like all the air had been taken out of me. My face was so hot, I thought for sure you knew how handsome I thought you were. I was absolutely helpless."

"You were so beautiful that night." Alexander hums. "Your pretty blue dress. I knew how to charm you right away. I knew I had to have you."

Some of the younger children 'eww'ed, but the older ones knew better and watched them with slightly misty eyes. After a cute moment, Eliza turned back to the stove. "Philip, I swear, you're just like your father was at your age."

Philip straightened an imaginary tie and smirked. "All my professors say I've got the same virtuosity and brains as pops." He boasts. Angie laughs out loud at him, and that's when he realizes he's unconsciously referenced his own poem.

"You've got my charm and charisma too, son." Alexander says pointedly. The teens at the island all laugh. "You're gonna blow them all away."

Frances grabs her bag from under her chair and rummages around, eventually pulling out a hairbrush, a hair tie, and the small box that Philip recognizes as the box that held her bobby pins. She moves behind him and starts styling a simple ponytail, just elegant enough to pass with his outfit.

"So let's go for lunch in midtown, then we can head down to SoHo whenever. Will suggests, and everyone else mutters agreement.

"I hear Burr is going to be there tonight." Alexander moves back to his laptop, his voice adopting a passive tone.

Eliza cuts her eyes at her husband before turning to her oldest son. "Philip. If Mr. Burr is there, you'll send him our regards." She says, but her tone and facial expression say  _don't get yourself or your father into trouble._

"Of course, mom." Philip smiles at his mom, then turns to his father, who's expression reads  _put that fucker on blast._

"Okay, let's go." Georges pulls his jacket on and stands, and everyone follows suit. Alexander follows them to the door. "Make me proud son." He salutes before closing the door behind them.

* * *

 

As they approach the upper-class cafe where the poetry slam is taking place, Philip's anxiety melts away. He feels so professional, walking alongside his friends in their most formal wear, Frances holding his left hand, Georges holding his right. He focuses on Angie and Will laughing behind them, on the sound of Frances's heels clicking on the pavement. The cafe's outside is beautiful, red brick walls covered with wrought-iron casing, ivy vines climbing to the roof. String lights are hung just under the gutter, giving everything a soft glow. They give their names to the man at the front and then they're let in. The interior is even more beautiful, red brick walls, circular black tables and chairs, more string lights, wooden thatched floors. It's the epitome of 'hip', Philip thinks.

They find their assigned table at the front of the cafe, right next to the stage where musicians would normally play. There's still a guitar and a pair of bongos in the corner. They each order a drink and wait, the nerves setting in. Some reporters come by and interview Philip, quoting him and praising him.

At 7 PM sharp, the MC steps onto the stage and calls the showcase to order. Philip's nerves are completely fried, and the only thing he pays attention to is Angie and Frances's piece about feminism and sex positivity. He gives them the standing ovation they deserve. 

Philip is the last to read of the night, and When the MC calls his name, his breathing stops completely. Georges and Will pat his back as he hops up onto the stage. The room goes silent, and he begins to read.

_My name is Philip,_

_I am a poet,_

_I wrote this poem just to show it._

_And I just turned nine,_

_You can write rhymes but you cant write mine!_

As he continues, one verse for every year, every grade, every event in his life, he gets used to the pressure. It almost feels like teetering on the edge of success and failure is a dance, once he's caught onto quickly. He doesn't realize how loud he's gotten, how passionately he's reciting, and before he knows it he's finished 18 and is on to his current age.

_Meet the latest student of King's College,_

_I prob'ly shouldn't brag, but dag,_

_I amaze and astonish._

_The scholars say I've got the same virtuosity and brains as my pops,_

_the ladies say my brain's  not where the resemblance stops._

_I'm only 19, but my mind is older,_

_Gotta be my own man, like my father, but bolder._

_I shoulder his legacy with pride, I used to hear him say that one day,_

_I would blow us all away!_

He steps away from the mike, and the applause is rapturous. People are standing, cameras are flashing and he sees his friends cheering, Frances is looking extremely proud, Angie is wiping away a tear, Will is pumping his fist, and Georges is standing on his chair screaming bloody murder.

After all the excitement has settle a bit and the showcase is officially over, the friends collect themselves to go. Philip is hailed as a triumph, total strangers coming up to him, shaking his hand. As they're moving to the door, Philip is stopped by a tall, thin man in a maroon suit.

"Mr. Burr, sir" He says, a bit breathless.

"Philip." Aaron smiles down on him. "You were spectacular, young man. I'm sure your father will be very proud of you. It was an honor to be in the room where it happened."

"Thank you, sir." Philip shakes his hand.

"Father! There you are! A young woman comes up behind Burr, and Philip feels weak. Like all the air has been taken out of him. She's stunning, a complete bombshell, a pale pink silk dress tightly hugging her figure, contrasting beautifully with her dark skin. She's wearing heels of the same shade but he's got a few inches on her, and her hair is pulled up into a delicate-looking bun, some curls springing free along her hairline.

"Here I am." Burr smiles down on her before returning his attentions to Philip. "Philip, this is my daughter Theodosia. She's about your age. You've met before, but you were both very young, so I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't remember each other."

"Please, call me Theo." She offers him her hand. "You were inspiring, to say the least."

Philip takes a chance and lifts her small, soft hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "Thank you, miss."

Theo lushes and looks away, and Aaron's face hardens. "Well, you'll send your family our regards." He nods and steers Theo away.

"What was that?" Frances chuckles at him, noticing his dreamy expression.

"Helpless." Philip manages. "I'm helpless."

And that's when he realized that he's crashing and burning for Theodosia Burr, AKA the daughter of his father's political enemy. 

"Fuuuuuu....."


	2. New York City

Philip groans and rolls over in his bed. He's still in his clothes from the night before, save for his shoes. Frances is under his arm, and he can feel a head on his legs (judging by the amount of cushioning hair he feels, he can only assume it's Georges). He sits up, being very careful not to wake anyone in the process. He grasps for is phone, finding it among the blankets, and clicking the home button. The screen lights up, emblazoned with a picture of Philip and all his siblings, and the time displayed at the top- 11:47 AM. There's a notification waiting for him from Facebook.

**Theodosia Burr Jr. has sent you a friend request**

He unlocks his phone and opens the Facebook app, ignoring the many articles in his name, and finds the request. His thumb hovers over 'accept' for a few moments, wondering if this is a bad thing, if what he's doing could throw off the delicate balance that is his life, but when he remembers the previous night, their first re-meeting, he doesn't really care and clicks 'accept' anyways, like ignoring the terms and conditions.

A message comes in mere moments.

 **Theodosia Burr Jr.:** Hey Philip!

Philip delegates with himself on how to respond before settling on something simple.

 **Philip Hamilton:** Theo! Hey! How are you?

 **Theodosia Burr Jr.:** I'm okay, still kind of on a high from last night. I never knew poetry slams were so fun!

 **Theodosia Burr Jr.:** How are you?

 **Philip Hamilton:** Honestly, the same. Not to brag but I've gotten a lot of praise, and I'm still kind of floating.

 **Theodosia Burr Jr.:** I can only imagine! You deserve every good word, you were fantastic, Philip.

 **Philip Hamilton:** Aw, thank you, Theo! :)

 **Theodosia Burr Jr.:** Say, what're you up too this afternoon?

 **Philip Hamilton:** If I can manage to get my friends to leave, then nothing, haha

 **Philip Hamilton:** Why do you ask?

 **Theodosia Burr Jr.:** Well if you're free, would you like to maybe get a coffee? I'd love to talk poetry with you.

 **Philip Hamilton:** Yes totally! I'm in! When and where?

Theo names an Upper East Side coffee shop and offers a flexible time of 3 PM, to which Philip happily agrees. He kicks out of bed and wakes Will first, who's on the floor. 

"Hamilton, we got home at 3 AM. Let me sleep a few more hours." Will groans and covers his eyes with the crook of his elbow.

"You gotta go mega-tailor on me again." Philip mutters quietly.

"What? Why?" Will sighs.

"I've got a date with Theo."

Will sits up abruptly. "Theodosia Burr?" He asks, incredulous.

"Yes, Theodosia Burr." Philip hushes his voice.

"You have a date with Theodosia Burr? Frances stumbles from the bed.

Philip closes his eyes and silently counts to ten in French, an old trick his mother had taught him in his early years. He loves his friends, but sometimes having his hole life as public property became exhausting. "Yeah. Well, not really a date. We're getting coffee at 3."

Frances blows a stream of air from her pursed lips. "You sure that's a good idea?" She asks. 

"It is, as long as you two are sworn to secrecy." Philip says pointedly.

Will gives an exaggerated thumbs-up. "You got it, dude."

Will picks out an outfit of dark wash jeans and a white polo shirt, and Frances pulls the top half of his hair into a ponytail to keep it out of his face. She then wakes Georges and Angie, escorting them from the room, pecking Philip on the cheek and mouthing 'text me!' as she leaves.

* * *

 

Philip has half an hour to kill, so he goes downstairs. His father is at the table, working again, but shuts his laptop entirely when he sees his son. "My boy!" He exclaims as he rises, rushing over to envelop Philip in a bone-crushing hug. "I've read every article and seen every review. Everyone loves you! Even Burr texted me this morning to tell me you were fantastic. His daughter was really inspired by you, he said she was up all night writing poetry too!"

"Young Theodosia is writing poetry?" Eliza descends the stairs in her bathrobe. "How nice. She was always a lovely girl. You two were always so close when you were young. Was it nice to see her again last night? I imagine you'd still be close, if it weren't for your fathers." She jokes.

"Hey!" Alexander cries. "Not my fault being in a room with Mr. Talk-Less-Smile-More makes me want to shoot myself."

"It was really nice to see her." Phillip tries to keep his expression measured. "She's really, uh, grown up, I guess." Eliza shoots him a curious glance, but says nothing. 

"I don't know how Burr ended up with a kid like her." Alexander shakes his head.

"His wife." Eliza bows her head at the memory of Theodosia Sr., who had passed away only a few years ago.

"Well whatever the case, I always liked her. She was almost as smart as my boy!" He beams. "I wonder how she stands having a father as shallow, fake, backbone-less-"

"Alexander!" Eliza admonishes gently. She hugs Philip around his side. "Your Aunt Angelica called this morning. You're on the London poetry blogs!"

"We're all very proud of you, son." Alexander looks like he might cry of pride- and Philip wouldn't be surprised if he actually did.

"Thanks you guys." Philip embraces both of his parents. "So, listen. Can I go for a celebratory lunch with Georges and Will?"

"Of course!" Alexander confirms.

"Great. Thanks." And Philip thinks, _if they knew where I was really going..._

He takes a taxi to the cafe, which is actually located on the ground floor of a small mall, and arrives a few minutes before 2:30. He doesn't see Theo anywhere, so he orders a coffee and sits at the tall two-seated table near the drink pick-up station. Theo rushes in a few minutes later in blue jeans and a white-and-blue pinstripe button up, brown micro heels, and a messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She's wearing glasses today, round, thin wire frames, and her curly hair is pulled back into a low ponytail.

"Philip!" She cries and approaches him, and she actually hugs him. She smells like peppermint and vanilla and Philip is taken aback by the familiarity of it all.

"He-hey!" He laughs for whatever reason and hugs her back. When they break apart, she hoists herself onto the tall chair opposite him. They make idle conversation for a while, and Philip is surprised by how easy it feels to talk to her. After nearly an hour for conversation, she reaches into her bag, pulling out a notebook, dog-eared and tented, with pages practically spilling from between the red covers. It reminds Philip of something his father might have. Theo thumbs through the first few pages and finally pulls out a folded-up piece of paper, mismatched from the other pages hanging from the book. She slides the paper towards him.

"I wrote this last night," she says, "I was hoping you could give me some feedback?"

Philip unfolds the paper. At the top, in feminine handwriting, is the word _MOM_.

Philip reads down the page, making note of every elegant simile, the places where words are crossed out and their replacements are squished above them. It's a long, rambling poem, dynamic, it almost feels like it has edges. He puts the paper down after the last biting sentence and stares at it. It's revolutionary, better than anything he could have written in a night. He doesn't know what to tell her.

"Philip?" She asks quietly, putting her hand over his arm.

"Theo... This is... There are no words," He nearly whispers, "This is absolutely stunning. Have you looked into showcases?"

Theo smiles and grabs the paper back, stuffing it back into her book. "Please. I'd be so terrified to perform up there, by myself! I'm nothing like you." She lowers her eyes, and the compliment hits Philip like an anaconda tightening around his neck. He shouldn't be this giddy at such a small compliment, all things considered.

He's a bold man like his father, so he leans forward to phrase the risk. "Y'know, I feel like I've known you my whole life."

"Well, I guess we did know each other as kids," Theo shrugs, "But I know what you mean." She's quiet a moment before speaking up again. "It's a shame our dads are always at each others throats. I'd love to see more of you."

"Well then, we'd better make today count." Philip suggests and stands from the table. Theo raises an eyebrow, but doesn't protest, and they fall into step with each other as they approach the escalator up to the second floor. As they step on, Theo's heel slips off the step and she reels backwards. Philip catches on just in time and catches her by her wrist, pulling her back up to balance.

"You alright?" He chuckles a bit, moving his hand from her wrist to her fingers, winding their hands together.

Theo chews her lip a bit. "Just fine."

They spend the next few hours goofing around in various stores, inadvertently pissing off cashiers, making complete fools of themselves, acting like children. Making up for lost time, they suppose.

At long last, when the windows are dark, Theo tells him she should be getting home or her dad will worry.

"Let me walk you?" Philip requests.

"I only live a few blocks away, I can manage." Theo assures him.

"I know you can, but it's dark and we live in a real fucked up world. I'd worry about you if I didn't see you home safe." He says, trying to channel his father's charm. Theo raises an eyebrow at him but concedes, her shoulders falling.

"Alright then, lets go."

They walk through the darkened streets to the Burr townhouse, a house Philip vaguely remembers. Neither of them complains when their hands find each other again.

"This is me," Theo gestures to the brownstone behind her. "Thanks for such a fun day."

"My pleasure." Philip grins, still holding her hand. She looks up at him and he looks down at her, and they're slowly inching towards each other. Their lips connect like magnets.

Philip is in a bliss, and even though he's vaguely aware that he's kissing Theodosia Burr Jr., he's more aware of the fact that he's kissing Theo. She pulls away years too soon. "Our dads?"

"You're bringing them up now?" Philip jokes. "Nobody needs to know."

Theo nods, lifts herself onto her toes and pecks him again before moving away. "Text me." She says, and swings through the front door.

Philip watches after her for a few moments before raising his arms in victory, loudly whispering 'YES!'. 

Once he's done happy dancing, he grabs his phone and sends a message to his group chat.

**Philip to Living Poets Society:**

**So it kind of was a date after all**


	3. Domestic Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooooo im real sorry about the gap in updates!!!! but i have an actual idea for where this story is going now and i have an endgame in mind, as well as a chapter im really REALLY excited about (the next one). thanks for reading!  
> (also smut in this chap. no ragrets)

Theo slips back into her house, praying her father is asleep. She has no such luck, however, as Aaron Burr is sitting under their antique lamp reading from Chaucer.

"Darling!" He exclaims, standing from the overstuffed chair they'd inherited from his late wife's parents. "How was your day with Martha?"

"Just fine, father." Theo actively avoids eye contact as she kicks off her shoes. She knows her father loves her, but their relationship has always felt professional, business-like, sterile.

"Glad to hear it." Aaron finally reaches her and hugs her tightly. "There's some Ben & Jerry's in the freezer for you. Don't stay up too much longer, okay?"

"Alright. Thank you father." She pecks his cheek (quickly and softly, so as to keep as much of Phillip on her as possible) and rushes up to her room. She already has a text from Phillip.

 **Phillip:** Had a great time today. Like, a really really great time

 **Phillip:** Do it again soon?

Theo smiles and collapses on her bed, suddenly exhausted. She manages to fire off a short reply before passing out.

 **Theo:** Super soon :)

She isn't awake for the final text he sends.

 **Phillip:** :* <3 sleep tight, Theo.

* * *

 

Phillip, on the other hand, is wide awake, floating, so much so that he doesn't take a cab home, he walks. Most of his family is still awake, but thankfully for him he only receives a few hugs from some of his younger siblings before he's allowed up to his room to do a celebratory happy dance in private.

But Angie is sitting on his bed when he opens the door, and for a moment she looks so much like the aunt she's named after that Phillip nearly hits the floor. Both her arms and legs are crossed, and despite being in her pyjamas she's never looked more intimidating. She stands off the bed, yanks him into the rooms and slams the door, her scowl deepening.

"Uh, hey Ange." Phillip tries, but he knows he's in deep shit and he knows why.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She lowers he voice to a harsh whisper, as paranoid as he is that their family will hear more than they need to know.

Phillip hangs his head. "I know. I'm an idiot."

"The biggest." Angelica scoffs, and for a second Phillip feels like he might cry. Angelica softens he approach. "Just- Do you have any idea how this could turn out? You two make one wrong move and the press will be crawling all over you like ants on honey. Tabloids are not exactly easy on politicians, or their families. You remember-"

"I remember." Phillip cuts her off, not wanting to talk about the incident years ago. "And I  know that, Ange." Phillip sniffs, his sky-high mood dampened. "I just, like... When I saw her again, at the poetry slam the other night, it was like something woke up inside of me. And I know she felt it too. Something like this... It just can't be ignored, Ange. You understand?"

Angelica's shoulders slump, and her expression turns to one of concern. "I understand. But be careful, alright? And know that I'm behind you guys, one hundred percent."

"Thanks, kid." Phillip wraps his arms around his little sister, fully understanding, for the first, the implications of his actions.

* * *

 

One week later, Phillip wakes up to his phone ringing, and he begrudgingly pulls it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey." It's Theo, her voice hoarse, having obviously just woken up herself. "Good morning."

Phillip sits up in bed. Their calls had become more frequent, and it had come to the point where Phillip counted on her morning calls to wake him up. "Good morning!" His tone instantly warms. "How are you?"

"Well-rested." She sighs. "I've been sleeping really well lately. If I'm not writing, I'm sleeping."

"You writing a lot?" Phillip asks.

"Tons, actually. I'm pretty impressed with myself." Theo chuckles.

"Well, are you gonna send them to me?" Phillip teases slightly. It had become a Thing they did- whenever one of them wrote a new poem, they'd send it to the other on Facebook.

"Actually, would you like to see them?" Theo asks, a little timid.

Phillips heart launchees into his throat. They had seen each other twice in the past week, but that didn't dull the excitement he felt at the prospect of getting to see her again. "Yes! Where and when?" He blurts, maybe too quickly.

"My house. Tomorrow." Theo lowers her voice. "Phillip, my father is leaving for Georgia on a business trip today. He'll be gone three days. I want-" She takes a deep breath before continuing. "I want you to come stay with me."

Phillip feels like he might burst with happiness. "Of course, Theo." His voice takes on a reverence. "I- Yes, oh my god. I'm gonna start packing right now."

"Wait, what're you going to tell your family?" Theo asks.

Phillip pauses a moment, half out of bed. "Uh, I'll tell them I'm staying with Frances. Her dad is running an army course up in Albany for the next few days, so it should be pretty easy to get around."

"Okay. I'll call you when he's gone. I'll see you soon, Phillip."

"I can't wait."

* * *

 

He arrives at her house shortly after 6. She is waiting at the door, and he couldn't help but to pick her up when he hugged her around the middle. She pulls him inside and leads him to the couch, where she has two glasses of red wine waiting.

"Was it easy, getting Frances to agree to cover for us?" She asks after he's kissed her dizzy.

"Very. She's on our side. So's Will and Georges, and my sister." Phillip takes a long sip of wine and kisses her again, exhilarated by the fact that they don't have to hide for now.

"I know." Theo agrees, and Phillip realizes that he's been talking out loud. "It means I get to do this." She sets down her glass and crawls onto his lap, straddling him. Her hair falls over her face, and Phillip brushes it away with one hand, the other coming to rest on her hip.

"You're so beautiful." He tells her, and his throat closes. She leans down and kisses him again, slower, opening her mouth just enough. Phillip sighs into it, leaning up as much as he can, wanting more, needing more-

His stomach gurgles loudly. Theo pulls away and laughs, and as upset he is at the loss of her mouth on his, Phillip laughs too. 

"Dinner?" Theo asks, and Phillip nods his head. Theo stands and ffers her hand to pull him up and across the main floor to the kitchen. "I make a mean spaghetti."

"May I help?" Phillip asks as Theo pulls a pot from a cabinet, fills it with water, and places it on the stove.

"Uh, yes, there are tomatoes in the fridge. Wanna slice 'em for me?" She gestures to a drawer, and Phillip pulls a knife from it. He slices the tomatoes, she seasons the pasta, it's all very cutesy and domestic and Phillip realizes, without much hesitation, that he wouldn't mind living the rest of his life like this, badly belting out whatever came on shuffle on his phone, dancing around the kitchen, sneaking kisses to the back of Theo's neck when they passed.

After dinner, once all the dishes are done and put away, Theo slowly leads Phillip to her bedroom, kissing him all the way there. Phillip's pulse is hammering, his hands roaming her body, and when they fall onto her bed, he allows himself a good long look into her eyes.

"You have any idea what you do to me?" His voice is low in his throat, as if having it any higher would shatter the moment.

"Do you want me?" Theo asks, he voice far too innocent for what she's asking. She looks up at him with her big brown eyes and Phillip nearly shakes.

"God, do I." He almost growls, and kisses her again, a little more aggressive. She responds in kind, hitching her legs up over his hips, pulling him closer by his shirt. One hand runs down his chest and begins work on his shirt buttons, while he lifts her dress over her head. Both of them know that, after this, there's no going back.

* * *

 

Theo wakes up at about 10 AM, throws on Phillip's T shirt and a pair of underwear, and Phillip groggily throws on the singular pair of sweatpants he packed. They spend a few moments talking before both drifting back to sleep, not hearing the front door click open.


	4. Accidents Can Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I published this chapter weeks ago. Turns out I didn't. Sorry!  
> ALSO: small instance of physical abuse in this chap. be safe!

"Phillip!"

_Thunk._

"Phillip! Theo!"

The sleeping couple snaps awake when Theo's bedroom door slams opened, a cold rush of adrenaline flowing through them. Frances stands in the doorway, panting, a crazed look on her face. "Phillip. You have to leave."

"Frances," Phillip stands out of bed instantly, "What's going on?" A deep sense of dread crashes through him.

"It's your-" She is cut off by the sound of the front door cracking against the wall downstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of Alexander Hamilton's voice.

"PHILLIP HAMILTON, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

Frances gives them both a pathetically apologetic look and in less than a moment, Frances's father, Phillip's Uncle John is in the doorway behind his daughter, his arm wrapped in a neon green cast. He is followed shortly by Alexander and Aaron, Alexander's face red with rage.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He screams at his son.

"Pops?" Phillip exclaims. "How did you-"

"Your Uncle John came home early from his course. He broke his arm." Alexander explains. "I went over to his place to help him out. I thought I'd see you there, but you nor your things were anywhere to be found."

Phillip cuts his eyes at Frances, who takes a minuscule step backwards. "I didn't say anything." Her voice cracks a bit.

"I figured it out on my own." Alexander scoffs, as if he had been insulted. "If there's one place you'd lie about being, I figured it'd be the last place you'd want me to catch you."

"Father, you're supposed to be in Georgia until tomorrow evening." Theo cuts in.

"The conference ended early. I wanted to surprise you." Aaron pulls a tiny bouquet of three roses from inside his sportcoat and tosses them on the bed. "I thought we'd get to spend some extra time together." He practically spits the last sentence out. Phillip watches him with cautious eyes, according to his father, if you got Aaron Burr angry enough, he could get reckless, Violent.

"Guys," Laurens cuts in, trying to defuse the tension, "you can't just be sneaking around like this. It's dangerous. You have to be careful about this stuff. Accidents can happen, they can-" Frances stepps away from her father abruptly. "No! No, I didn't mean..." But it's too late, Frances has set her jaw, her eyes glassing over, trained on the ground. Phillip steps forward and grabs her into a hug. He's unsure of what had set her off, but he isn't going to let his sister get hurt any more than she already has been. 

There is a long silence as Frances cries into Phillip's chest. Laurens reaches out to her. "Honey, I'm so sorry..."

"No, save it." Frances snaps. "All of you can go to hell. All you care about is how you're seen, your public image or whatever. But at what cost? Your family? Your children's happiness? Can't you see that they love each other?" She gestures to Phillip, and then to Theo, who's eyes had begun to gloss over as well. "But that doesn't matter to you, does it? As long as you keep your reputation pristine. You don't care who you hurt in the process. Fucking politicians." She growls before storming out. Laurens calls out after her, but does not follow.

Aaron hangs his head, his voice dropped to a deathly, scalding octave. "Theodosia, I do not want you in contact with Phillip again."

"What? Father, you can't do this!" Tho skids to the edge of the bed on her knees.

"I agree." Alexander spits. "Don't contact my son again. And you," he turns to Phillip, "You should know better." he grabs his son by the bicep and pulls him out.

"How could you do this?" Theo near screams at her father.

"How could  _I_ do this?" Aaron roars. "You should have known so much better, Theodosia. What would your mother say?"

"Don't you dare bring Mother into this." Theo's tears spill over at the mention of the mother. "Even so, you should know something about forbidden love. She had a goddamn affair to be with you!"

Without warning, a sharp slap comes to her cheek. She reels back on the bed, holding her hand to her face where it stings, not noticing her father walk over to her bedside table and snatch her phone away. "I'm taking this," he tells her, "and if I hear again that you've been in contact with him, the consequences will be severe. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, father." Theo whispers shakily, refusing to look at him. He leaves and slams the door, and Theo shatters, collapsing onto her pillow, the tears burning on the now raw skin of her cheek.

* * *

 

Phillip doesn't say anything to anyone when they get home. He storms up to his room, even going so far as to ignore Angelica. He slams his door and falls against it, breaking down into tears. His head is pounding, and his heart hurts like hell. He feels like he's just had a limb ripped off. Life without Theo.

Suddenly, his phone dings with a message from Facebook.

 **Theodosia Burr Jr,:** Father took my phone, but he doesn't really grasp the concept of social media and left my laptop. Are you okay?"

Phillip sighs like a drowning man coming up for air.

 **Phillip Hamilton:** Theo, shit, I'm so sorry, are you alright? I'm fine. I's so sorry, I shouldve thought this through more

 **Theodosia Burr Jr,:** God, no, it's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself. I'm fine. Kind of.

 **Phillip Hamilton:** Kind of????

 **Phillip Hamilton:** Theo... Please don't tell me

 **Theodosia Burr Jr,:** Yeah. I'm fine though. It's all fine.

 **Phillip Hamilton:** God, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault

 **Phillip Hamilton:** I wish I could call you to tell you how fucking sorry I am, I'm so so sorry

 **Theodosia Burr Jr,:** It is not your fault. Don't you dare blame yourself.

 **Theodosia Burr Jr,:** Is Frances okay? What happened to set her off like that?

 **Phillip Hamilton:** I have no idea. I called her over and over again on the way home, but she's not answering her phone. I'm gonna go looking for her.

 **Theodosia Burr Jr,:** God, yeah, okay, do that. Tell her I'm sorry for whatever I did. Stay safe, keep me posted.

 **Phillip Hamilton:** I love you, Theo.

 **Theodosia Burr Jr,:** I love you too, Phillip.

 

Phillip storms back downstairs, nearly making it to the foyer before he's stopped by his father. "Where do you think you're going?" He spits venom.

"To find Frances." Phillip says curtly. "Whatever Uncle John said really upset her." He can see his father's jaw tense- he knows something.

"I'm not letting you go." Alexander shouts back. "How do I know you won't just go back to Burr's?"

"Why does it matter so much?" Phillip finally asks, exasperated.

Alexander blanches for a moment. "Because Aaron Burr is a spineless, lying, hypocritical-"

"But we're not talking about Aaron, are we?" Phillip counter. For the first time, Alexander is speechless. "We're talking about Theo. She's not her father. She's so different. She. Is. Not. her father." He looks Alexander straight in the eye, an ice glare that would make Eliza proud, before delivering the final and ultimate blow.

"And neither am I."

He leaves, slamming the door without another word.


End file.
